This is how it ends, it was meant to be
by rnarvcl
Summary: Fran's biggest fear was that Derek would one day meet the same fate as his father.
Savannah peered down into the incubator. The grip the baby had on her finger was tight, but fear threatened to consume the joy she was feeling.

Penelope said he was going to be okay.

Derek was just chasing down a lead.

He was going to be fine _,_ he was going to come back to her safe, to her and her _baby._

She vaguely registered Hotch coming around to stand on the other side of the incubator, steady and reliable as always. But she had been married to a profiler for half a year. She could see the stoop of his shoulders, the sorrow in his eyes even as he gazed over the baby.

"Hotch, where's Derek?" Savannah asked. Even though she knew.

Once, Derek had told her that the only time he had ever seen Hotch's façade break was when the mother of his son died. That if his boss was anything less than stoic, they all immediately knew something was very, very wrong.

Savannah could see those cracks now.

"Savannah, I'm so sorry."

* * *

Rossi wondered if it would be callous to pray for Morgan's soul. For the first time in his life, he stopped himself from raising his hands in the memory of a loved one.

It wasn't like Morgan needed someone to pray for him anyway. He had saved himself his entire life, right until the end.

* * *

Hotch could not help but think of Prentiss when Morgan ran off on his own, determined to face Montolo by himself in the name of protecting his family. Morgan, Prentiss, heck, pretty much all of them were starkly similar that way. Ready to offer help, reluctant to ask for it. It was one of the few things that disturbed the otherwise well-oiled machine that was their team.

At least Prentiss was still alive to regret her actions- although Hotch suspected she didn't- and live a full life. Hotch could only hope that Morgan could do the same.

Hotch could not help but think of Hayley when he heard Morgan's voice over the phone, shaking with fear, while he and his team sat helplessly in the car. Morgan was nothing like Hayley.

Hayley wasn't alive anymore.

When the gunshot sounded, neither was Morgan.

* * *

It had been several years since Reid had trouble with a gun.

He didn't have trouble when he barged into the house and levelled his revolver at Montolo's head either.

Reid took the shot and hurried over to the body lying at the edge of the room, regulations be damned. But even before he reached Morgan, he knew. Knew that whatever force had kept him alive, whatever miracle that had saved Morgan even after horrific torture, even after he coded in the ambulance had stopped working.

Morgan's body, lying in a pool of blood, blank eyes staring at the ceiling would forever be engraved in his mind as proof of one thing:

His best friend was dead.

* * *

It was late in the day when JJ found herself hovering over the incubator. She tried to steady her hand as she slipped her hand through the glove. Gently, she urged the baby to grab on to her finger.

His grasp was strong. Strong, just like his father is. Was.

JJ placed a finger over the glass case and steadied herself. She had powered through the day, taking care of making sure someone was able to take over as Savannah's medical proxy, making sure Morgan was comfortable until he was brought over to his final resting place, making sure his family was kept informed. Dealing with legalities was she did best, and she let her years of experience as a media liaison set her body to auto pilot as she tried not to let grief overtake her body.

Now, standing beside the child of one of her closest friends, the events of the day caught up to her. This child that will never get a chance to know his father. She fanned out her fingers over the glass and pressed down, letting out a sob.

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, baby."

* * *

Lewis knew the statistics. She knew the chances of losing a teammate were high, higher than many other divisions of the FBI, and certainly higher than losing a co-worker while she worked with a killer already behind bars.

It didn't make it any less painful, and she had only been working with Morgan for a few months. She could hardly imagine what the others were feeling. As far as she was aware, most of her teammates had been working together with Morgan for over a decade now.

Lewis knew everything there was to know about a killer's psyche. But now, standing on the other side of the events, feeling the brunt of the killer's action rather than evaluating it from afar, she felt like she knew nothing at all.

* * *

Fran's biggest fear was that Derek would one day meet the same fate as his father. It was something that kept her awake for weeks when he had first announced his decision to join the police academy, and something that kept her awake for months when he decided to transfer to the Bureau.

She held a sobbing Savannah in her arms for nearly an hour. She tried to find strength.

* * *

When Garcia heard the gunshot sound, her first instinct was to freeze up. Her second was to hide.

She found herself doing just that in the bathroom, shielding herself from the world. A world without Derek Morgan, one she didn't think she would ever be ready to face.

A nurse found her, bent over the sink and trying to contain sobs and the anguish of losing her best friend.

The look she got from the nurse was one of knowing sympathy. It was one that she saw in her teammates' eyes all too often when they readied themselves to talk to the spouse, the parents, the _family_ of the victim. It was the same look the officer who came to report her parents' death had.

Dimly, she remembered Savannah. She might have been in a state of shock, but Savannah was about to have a baby, _all by herself,_ and if there was any time to push her emotions aside for her loved ones it would have to be now.

The doctors were rushing about in the delivery room, putting up a screen. Over the chaos, Garcia could make out a lone doctor standing beside Savannah, holding a syringe.

"Do you want local anaesthesia or one to make you unconscious throughout the entire process? I recommend the latter, your body has gone through enough stress in the past few hours."

Oh _god._ Garcia couldn't do this.

"The second option, please." She called out. The doctor and Savannah both turned to look at her, one with an expression of confusion, another with one of panic and fear.

"Hey Savannah." Garcia said, moving closer. She hoped that the glasses and mask she had been required to wear hid the fact that she had been crying, and tried to keep her voice level. "We can't get a hold of Morgan yet, and maybe we won't be able to for a while, so it's better if you aren't able to stress about it for now, yeah? For the baby." She emphasized this by taking Savannah's hand and giving it a squeeze. Working with a group of profilers had taught a few tips and tricks.

Something in her voice must have convinced her, because Savannah agreed easily enough. "Okay." She answered, settling down. "Just, just remember to send Derek here once he comes back, okay?"

The anaesthesia took hold of her fast enough that Garcia didn't have to answer. She knew that she couldn't if she had to.

* * *

Panic seized Prentiss when she saw JJ's screen name flash across her phone. She had been holding her breath since she heard the news that Morgan's wife had gotten shot, waiting for the call.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Hey Emily." JJ's voice sounded broken.

Prentiss knew instantly that something was very, very wrong. She flipped open her laptop, readying herself to book a flight to DC.

"Hey JJ. How is Savannah?"

She could hear JJ holding back sobs over her phone and her heart sank.

"She's fine. The baby's fine. But Morgan, he's, he's-"

"What's wrong, JJ? What happened to Morgan?" Prentiss' own voice was breaking now.

"He's dead, Emily."

* * *

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